Not again!
by Celebwen Telcontar
Summary: It's 2266. Two students resurrect Voldemort by accident, and Harry is resurrected along with him. Harry has had enough, and wishes to stay out of this war with Voldemort.But will the world let him? You'll see! Military!Harry! Crossover with Star Trek TOS
1. Chapter 1

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I am writing yet another story. I got part of the idea from Gilthas' stories **_**3003**_** and **_**3003 Revised. **_**I also got another part of the idea from Rpnielsen's story **_**Wizard on the Edge of Forever**_**. Please go and check these stories out, they are great.**_

_**Balrog: Why are you advertising for authors that are not you?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Because I enjoy their work and want to let other people see what geniuses these authors are.**_

_**Balrog: Whatever. Anything else of import?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar:**__**I am changing the timeline a bit; Harry, Ron and Hermione were born in 1975, not 1981. The reason for this is so it will fit in the spliced timeline I am using from authors Gary Cox and Gene Roddenberry. Nothing you recognize from either of them is mine, nor is anything from JK Rowling.**_

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**Alleyway**

**London, England**

**July 25, 1995**

"Shit," Hermione Jane Granger-Weasley panted, dodging behind a rubbish bin. The Muggles were right behind her, firing darts and who knew what at her. She yelped as one hit the back of her leg, and she ripped it out. Her movements were beginning to get slower, and she lost her ability to reason perfectly. _'What do I do?'_ she thought frantically. "_Repello Muggletum!" _she cried, hoping to keep the Muggles from entering her alleyway. They came on anyways, shaking their heads fiercely. "_Expelliarmus!"_ The spell did nothing, save slow the Muggles down a little bit. Her hands hit blank brick as she pounded on the wall futilely. She fired off several blasting curses, to no avail. Her panic-stricken mind couldn't fumble up many useful spells; however she was still able to fight. The dart may have weakened her mental facilities; however it did nothing to her magic. "_Reducto!" _she shouted as she pointed her wand at her pursuers. "_Diffindo! Stupify! Expelliarmus! Rictumsempra!" _One of the pursuers fell to the ground, howling with mirth as another was blasted back by the Disarming Hex. She may just survive this! "_Aguamenti! Sectumsempra! Avis oppugno!" _The flock of starlings Hermione conjured went at the Muggles, flying at their faces until they were bloody and ripped. One of the Muggles had a flame thrower, and incinerated the birds. "_Densuego!" _The same Muggle tripped over his own teeth as they grew to an alarming rate, slipping in one of his compatriot's guts from the Sectumsempra curse. "_Gemino"_ Hermione cast the spell on a dustbin, causing it to rapidly cover the ground between herself and the Muggles with copies of itself. A Muggle then used a rocket launcher to clear the area around himself. Hermione looked around, and saw only brick. Nothing but human bodies and rubbish was flammable here. _"For Merlin! For Arthur! Charge!"_ she shouted the old battle cry of the war with Voldemort. _"Ardesco Fiendfyr!" _The brilliant dragon Hermione had conjured roared at the Muggles, a gleeful look on its flaming face. It had appeared from everywhere and nowhere at once, igniting the alleyway in golden-red luminescence. The bricks began to glow, then drip as they liquefied in the ridiculously intense heat. "_Aguamenti! Aguamenti! Aguament!" _Hermione cast, trying to keep from burning up with the rest of the alley. Her mind was going from the drug in her system, and she was getting slower.

"Shit!" she heard someone shout over the dragon's roar. "Get some fire trucks over here!" Then, nothing.

* * *

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry **

**Unplottable Location, Northern Scotland**

**July 30, 1995**

"We stand here to bid a final farewell to our friend, Hermione Weasley. Wife. Friend. Mother. Sister. Daughter. Hero. She will be dearly missed. We now commit her body to the Earth from which she came. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. So it will be evermore. Farewell."

Ginny Weasley sniffed and hugged her brother. It wasn't fair that he should be widowed at such a time. It wasn't fair that she never got married, either, but Harry had died defeating Voldemort. His tomb was on the grounds, beside a sapling. The rest of the Weasleys were standing there, solemn. Even little Wallace, George and Padma's son, was quiet. The boy was so much like Hermione that sometimes the family had teased Padma about it. But the brilliant boy was now as solemn as they all were. His red hair was in a ponytail, and he was dressed in black. The little baby fat he had was very quickly leaving him, revealing a lean, toned body and a strength beyond any ordinary baby's own capability. Padma was still recouperating from the difficult birth, and trying to put together the two days missing that she had and the one day missing from George.

"What do you suppose happened to her?" Claudia Weasley, Charlie's wife, asked.

"Who knows. Probably a mystery," answered Janet Granger, Hermione's mother, placing a hand on the ceremonial effigy of her daughter. They hadn't found anything from her body, just a scattering of ashes and melted brick. She had probably called down Fiendfyr to take her enemies down with her.

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**London Crater**

**London, England **

**March 15, 2256**

"Are you crazy?" Beatrix Ebon asked her compatriot. "We could be walking right into a trap! Besides, we're in this radioactive crater that's over three centuries old! Who knows how radioactive it still is!"

"Be quiet, Bea. I'm sure of this," Fafnir Foi said distractedly as he arranged pebbles in a pentagram-and-circle pattern. "The Nameless One was known to my family as the greatest of all sorcerers. If anyone can teach us about wand magic, he can."

"Wand magic is useless," Bea snapped in reply. "It has been since radioactivity permeated the lower and upper atmosphere."

"You need to suck your head out of those old physics manuals."

"What would I do if I did? Would you enjoy it if I were to join Starfleet Academy?"

"Maybe go back to Greenland, where you could be a physics teacher."

"You know I can't be a teacher. I can't teach."

"Sure you can, Bea. Remember the time you tried teaching me and Amelia physics?"

"It's _Amelia and I_, not _Me and Amelia_. Besides, the test tubes exploded, the Geiger counters went berserk, and we had to evacuate the school."

"Oh. Right. That wasn't fun. Neither was living in the Nord base while we waited for the Geiger counters to go down to a reasonable level."

"No, it wasn't," Bea said, smirking at him. "Let's just get this thing done with." Fafnir smiled and bowed mockingly before beginning a long and intricate chant. The pentagram shuddered and the rocks began to roll away from their stations. The circle broke and the center of the geometrical shape exploded outwards as a cloaked, pale person appeared on the ground. It struggled to its feet, shoving its hood back to reveal a serpentine face and deadly red eyes.

"How much time has it been?" the being hissed, obviously confused.

"T-time?" Fafnir asked, trying to translate the archaeic dialect. He wasn't a Linguistics student for nothing, though. Old English was his specialty.

"Since I was alive last," the creature said, seemingly impatient.

"Over three centuries, Sir."

"Three centuries? What is this place?"

"You can actually understand this creep?" Bea asked.

"_Crucio! _Did I ask _you_ a question?" the being snarled.

"L-London Crater, Sir," Fafnir stammered as Bea began to scream and writhe on the ground.

"You will address me as _My Lord_. What happened to London?"

"The Muggles, Si-My Lord. They blew everything up, mostly Asia, but some in Europe and the Americas. I think some of Oceana was spared, but I'm not sure. Please forgive me for my presumptions!"

"Forgive you? Whatever for?" the creature said in a sickeningly calm voice. "Do not question my orders!! _Crucio!!!_"

The man was writhing on the ground before long. "Now what has happened to Hogwarts?"

"I've never heard of Hogwarts, My Lord," Fafnir said, trying to remain calm. They had brought this madman on their own heads, and they would have to deal with it. They had asked for a magical teacher. They got a homicidal lunatic.

"Where were you taught, then?" Voldemort asked.

"Potter Academy for the Higher Magical Arts, in Northern Greenland, My Lord."

"You will take me there," The creature said malevolently.

"Of course, My Lord. How, My Lord?"

"A Portkey," The creature explained as patiently as he could.

"What's a Portkey?"

"_Crucio!!!"_

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**Potter Academy for the Higher Magical Arts **

**Nord, Greenland **

**March 15, 2256**

Siegfried Borgerson wandered the halls amiably, humming a snatch of an old epic poem entitled "Firebird", telling of the bombings which had removed a full tenth the human population and nearly eradicated the Wizarding one from a folk-story point of view.

"Headmaster Borgerson, Sir!" a student cried. "The Founder's Crypt! It's on fire!" Borgerson abandoned his humming and bolted for the catacombs. In the center was a large crypt, its doors oxidized to a strange green color, and a nameplate declaring that Harry Potter dwelt within. Currently, fire was belching out of the crypt, the copper filigree doors falling in a tangle of melted wire.

"Grab the hose!" Borgerson cried, turning on the water. He clutched his wand between his teeth, wrenching the wheel and thanking God that some ancient soul had placed a good deal of insulation on it and the pipes leading to it. The icy water plunged on the flames, causing them to hiss as they were extinguished.

"_For Merlin! For Arthur! Charge!_" A yell from inside the crypt caused them to turn off the water. Out of the crypt raced an apparition, clothed in nothing but smoke, and brandishing a wand. Multicolored beams of light flew from the end of the wand, causing Borgerson to duck and dodge. The student grasped the hose, and doused the warrior with it, causing him to splutter and fire curses at the hose. One of the jets of light caught the hose, causing it to explode, sending icy water everywhere. The stranger glared at the pair, and yet seemed very confused. His vibrant green eyes bored into theirs, and his hair, while soaked with rapidly freezing water, was obviously messy when dry. Beneath his half-frozen bangs they could see a bright red, inflamed, bleeding scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"Shit…" Borgerson whispered. "It's Harry Potter…"

"Of course I'm Harry Potter, you idiot! Where am I and where are the Death Eaters?!"

"How do you know that, Sir?" the student asked, ignoring the stranger's outburst.

"Because of the scar. It was given to him as a baby after he defeated the Nameless One for the first time. Go get him some clothes, please." The child did so, returning from his run with a shirt, pants, socks, shoes and a coat.

"No underwear?" the naked man asked as he pulled on the shirt.

"Were you saying that the Nameless One was defeated more than once?" the student asked Borgerson, incredulous and not allowing his Headmaster and the now-clothed stranger to talk.

"Yes. Once when Harry Potter was a baby, and once when he was an adult." Borgenson's communicator chirped from his belt, and the Headmaster of the Potter Academy for the Higher Magical Arts flipped it open.

"Yes?" he asked.

_*Sir, I think I've gotten us in a bit of hot water. I was looking for a professional teacher in magic, and I looked into Necromancy, specifically the kind that uses the Pentagram and Circle sign of the Old Religion Goddess.*_

"The result?" Borgenson asked patiently.

_*The Nameless One. He's a very powerful sorcerer from my family's legends. Apparently, my family wasn't all that great. He's a genocidal monster. Bea is… is dead. He killed her with a green light from his wand and an incantation. I think it was "Abracadabra" but I'm not entirely sure. I was tortured under his power, and— *_Crucio!* _Argh! !* _The communicator went dead, and the man in the tomb, Harry Potter, looked alarmed at the message.

"Where is he?" Harry said in a very archaic dialect. Borgenson had a difficult time understanding his words. "Where is Voldemort?"

"Who?" Borgenson asked.

"You-Know-Who?" Harry answered, sounding annoyed.

"I'm afraid I don't know who," Borgerson replied, baffled.

"He Who Must Not Be Named. The Dark Lord. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"I have no idea who you're talking about. What Dark Lord? The last Dark Lord we know of was Stephen the Mighty."

"Stephen the Mighty?" Harry asked, sounding and looking incredulous. "Stupid name if I ever saw one. What year is it?"

"2256, sir," the student piped up. Borgerson saw the man's jaw drop.

"You're kidding," the warrior snapped.

"No, sir. Headmaster, Sir, I think the Nameless One is this Dark Lord he keeps talking about."

"What?!" Borgerson yelped. The Dark Lord Harry Potter had fought against and died along with the creep?! That creature who tortured Fafnir and killed Bea was the _Nameless One_??? Didn't Sequoia tell them that Star Rituals were only used for specific purposes? But that made no sense. The Star Ritual would have never called the Nameless One; it was too pure. Unless Fafnir was calling for the Nameless One specifically. Then, the Nameless One would appear, but the land surrounding the Summoning Plain would be tainted by warped magic for decades if not centuries. As the communicator he used was useless now, he flicked it closed and clipped it back to his belt.

"What happened?" Harry Potter asked without preamble. Borgenson unscrambled the ancient words, and answered in the same language.

"The world has changed quite a bit since you were alive, Harry Potter. This is 2256, 300 or so years after your death with the Nameless One… er… Vol-au-vent. Let me see if I can explain, but first, we should go someplace more hospitable."

"Vol-au-vent?" Harry asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion. "Voldemort is not a mushroom stuffed pastry. Never mind that. Three hundred years?" Harry asked, catching up to the Headmaster. "You're kidding. Where the hell are we?"

"We're in Potter Academy for the Higher Magical Arts in Greenland. It's—"

"Greenland?!" Harry yelped. "What happened to England?"

"The Eugenics Wars happened. Most of England is a rock of radioactive mud. We're as far from any of the radiation as possible; the radiation affected our magic adversely."

"How did it do that?"

"Well, it would blow something up with a Summon, or fire backwards, or the people's magic would just shoot out their eyes or hands." The Headmaster led the Harry and the student out where the student saluted the Headmaster and marched off. "Ah, here we are." The Headmaster walked to a strange panel on the wall, and grabbed a box of preprogrammed meal disks. He selected a green one, for a synthetic crab meat salad sandwich and coffee, and slid it into a slot, asking the ancient warlord if he wanted anything. The lights to the food processor lit up and darkened, and the panel slid up, revealing a covered tray and a cup.

"That goes against the Exceptions to Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration," Harry protested.

"It's against who's what's what?" Borgenson asked, looking at Harry with a confused scowl.

"The Five Exceptions to Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration. One of them is that you can't create food. You can alter it, you can make more of it, but you can't create—"

"Shit!!!" Borgenson screeched. "You're one of _them_!!! You're one of those eugenically enhanced blokes all over the world! I thought they did away with all of you!!"

"What?" Harry asked. He was obviously completely confused. Borgenson realized that he had spoken modern English by accident. But that paled in the context that Harry Potter was a genetically enhanced person. Like Kahn Noonien Singh.

"Sorry. You are a Genetically Enhanced person. Your mother must have been a person in Project Chrysalis, in the mid-1970's to mid-1980's."

"What do you mean, Genetically Enhanced?" Harry asked.

"About the time of your birth, there were people being born everywhere that had been genetically enhanced. They were basically superhuman."

"I'm just a wizard. A friend of mine told me about the exceptions to Gamp's Laws of Transfiguration." The Headmaster took a sip of his beverage.

"Certain you don't want anything, Harry? It can make everything!"

"Er… Butterbeer, please."

"Butterbeer? What's that?" Borgerson asked, flipping through the preprogrammed meal disks. "I've never heard of Butterbeer."

"Hot chocolate, then. With a shot of Firewhiskey."

"What's firewhiskey?" the Headmaster asked, still looking through the disks. He selected a grey one. "Hot chocolate with marshmallows okay with you?"

"Fine." Borgerson slid the disk into the receptor and waited until the panel slid up again, revealing another covered plate and a cup. Harry took the plate and lifted the cover. The plate was covered in large, stale marshmallows. The Headmaster quickly put in another disk that he had taken out of his pocket, and the food replicator created a cup of whiskey.

"I don't know about the quality, but it's alcohol."

"Uh… thanks," the ancient warlord replied, putting marshmallows in his hot chocolate and pouring a generous portion of the liquor into the hot beverage.

"Unfortunately we don't have raktajino disks here. I'd be happier if they did."

"What's raktajino?"

"Klingon coffee."

"What coffee?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his cocoa. He made a face at it. "Horrible chocolate, by the way." He took a sip of the remainder of the whiskey and made another face. "It tastes like pond scum"

"That's basically what it is. The replicators work with algae. It's completely well balanced, the microscopic insects living in the algae provide the protein, but it just doesn't taste as well as traditional foods."

"I'm not surprised." Harry made a horrified face and slowly set the cup down. "What's a klingon? You never answered."

"Computer, Klingon."

_*Working. Specify cultural reference.*_

"Generic. Culture."

_*Working. Culture, Klingon. Warlike. Honor-driven, culture centered on combat. Government is Klingon High Council. Mating rituals and sexuality—*_

"Computer, that's enough!" Borgenson said firmly. The disembodied voice fell silent. "They're basically an alien species. They are the Earth's main enemy, always competing with us for Dilitheum crystals and other supplies."

"Does it always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Talk back to you?"

"That's how they're programmed. I thought you lived in an area with technology."

"No… Hogwarts didn't have any technology beyond the Middle Ages."

"What's a Hogwarts?"

"The magical school I attended. What is this place? Can we leave here?"

"No. We can't leave Greenland. The people who live here live in the old Muggle base. Greenland is moving North and West because of plate tectonics, and so we're icelocked. Our food comes from replicators and small greenhouses, we use our waste to make fertilizer, and we are a self-sufficient colony."

"Great. I've fallen into an icy greenhouse," Harry grumbled. "I'm not defeating Voldemort again. Your student resurrected him; let him deal with the consequences." He tossed a couple marshmallows into his cocoa, causing it to overflow with a splash.

"It sounds like you could use some help."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. My family and friends are all dead. For all I care, Voldemort can bugger you. I'm leaving. I don't care about this place. I don't care about Voldemort. I don't care about anything. My entire life's gone. Gone and dead." With a twist, Harry Potter apparated, not even finishing his cocoa.

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**Ruins of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**Scottish Highlands**

**March 16, 2256**

"Idiots," Harry muttered to himself, crossing what had once been the Great Hall. He picked his way through the rubble to one of the few still-covered hallways. A gargoyle made cheerful faces at him as he stared at it with a bittersweet smile. "Do you have a password?" Harry asked. The gargoyle pulled a face with his fangs and tongue, and then leapt aside. Behind the stone guardian, the rotating staircase was silent and unmoving. Harry began to climb, feeling it in his muscles. When he reached the door, he pushed it open. Inside was the Headmaster's Office, covered in dust and dirt. The portraits were all asleep or silent, still as Muggle paintings. The only sign that the room was ever occupied was the claw marks in the dust on Fawkes' old perch.

"Fawkes?" he called. The cheerful phoenix didn't answer at all, and he sneezed. He explored the office, the one part of Hogwarts still standing that was above ground level, and sighed as he saw the desk splintered and all of Dumbledore's little gizmos were dusty or in pieces. He couldn't return here. Where could he go, though? Maybe the United States. He remembered the man in the Greenland school talk about San Francisco and some space program. Maybe he would go into space. He needed a break. That's what he would do. He would go into space. With his mind made up, he twisted out of existence.

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**Star Fleet Academy**

**San Francisco, California**

**March 17, 2256**

Harry Potter smiled as he walked up to the recruitment desk. People looked at him oddly; he wore current Magical fashion, which was a dress shirt, trousers, boots and a long robe-like overcoat lined with fleece. He had removed the overcoat, draping it over his arm.

"I would like to apply for the Star Fleet Academy," Harry said. He filled out his application, and handed it to the recruiter.

"Not funny," the woman said, going through the application. "Date of birth: July 31, _1975_?? You really think we let jokers into Starfleet?! And schooling, Stonewall High School in Surry, England? What are you, an idiot? Get out of my sight." She threw the application datapad back at Harry, who stalked off. He should have probably come up with a better tactic than to use the truth! He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, holding his datapad. He erased the information, calling himself by his true name and using a birth year about twenty years before the current time. He then found a different recruiter, and handed him the application datapad. The recruiter slid a strange disk into the datapad and copied the application onto the disk then looked it over on his own datapad.

"Everything here seems right," he mused as he pursued the information. "Come to the shuttlepad here tomorrow morning, 0500 hours."

"Thanks," Harry said with a grim smile.

"Welcome to Starfleet Academy." Harry nodded and walked off towards his hotel room. He was going to leave this place, and let everyone else deal with Voldemort.

The next morning he awoke at three AM, pulling himself from dreams of the past. He dumped himself in the waterless shower, feeling the unwelcome tingle of something sterilizing his body without water. The clothing he wore were still the ones from the academy, and probably still very radioactive from the mess that had been England at one point. No matter. He wasn't going to be on this piece of dung planet any more.

As he walked up to the Starfleet shuttle, something started beeping incessantly.

"What the Hell?" someone cried. "Are you _crazy_? Come with me, now!" The strange woman seized his arm, let go, and beckoned to him. He ended up in a large room. "Disrobe. Now." She also began to remove her clothes, and as he began to stare at her strangely, she hit a button on the wall. Powerful jets of hot water shot out of showerheads on the wall, needling into him. He quickly removed his clothes, and she handed him a bar of soap, washing herself, especially the hand she had grabbed him with, with the soap. It burned and stung, and with the ache that it burrowed into him, he couldn't think about anything else, even a pretty blonde woman naked in front of him. She contorted into odd positions to get at every inch of her skin, and washed her hair thoroughly with the soap. She hit another button on the wall, and the stall beeped lazily. "Well, don't stand there all day! Finish anti-rading yourself!"

"Anti-_what_?"

"Anti-rad. Anti-radiation. When were you born, the twentieth century?"

"Yes…" he muttered to himself, scrubbing viciously with the soap. Finally the beeping stopped and the jets of water changed into hot air. The same tingling feeling he got from the waterless showers covered him, and the pain from the soap left, leaving him feeling clean, scrubbed to death, really. The mild nausea and general ill feeling he'd had since just after he returned from Hogwarts had also fled, leaving him feeling better than he had in years. Clean, whole, and new. It was fitting for him to feel this way, because he was new. He was a whole new person now.

"What are you standing there for?" the Starfleet officer asked as she handed him a set of clothes. He dressed, having been dried by the hot air blasting out of the holes in the wall. They were a uniform grey, with a Starfleet logo on it. "Come on." The blonde woman pulled him into line, combing her fingers through her hair. A diamond ring sparkled on her marriage finger, mutely proclaiming her status as an engaged woman.

"What was that?" Harry asked. The woman looked at him like he was crazy.

"An anti-radiation unit. Enough radiation is left over from the Eugenics Wars that we need them at every recruiting post in case people lived in the places with radiation. You should know this. It's common knowledge. What, are you one of the first cryogenic freeze subjects?"

"Uh… yah," he said, trying to wrap his head around what she was saying.

"No wonder you're so confused then. Someone should have taken the time to bring you up to date. What year were you born?"

"Nineteen seventy five."

"Twentieth century. So you're over three hundred years old. You've got a lot of history to catch up on, gramps!" She led him into a shuttle where she told him to get fastened and got herself strapped into the seat beside him. "I'm Chris."

"Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you. I'm sorry about the reactions, but we can never be too careful with radiation."

"I'm unfamiliar with radiation poisoning," Harry said, looking at his new friend.

"You will probably have symptoms for quite a while. How long were you in the radioactive zone?"

"I don't know. Where is the radioactive zone?" Harry asked.

"Where were you before here?"

"Greenland then the UK."

"The United Kingdom? For how long?"

"An hour, two at best."

"You might not get very sick afterwards, but I want you to visit the hospital after we land. You can never be too careful." Harry smiled at her gratefully and then got into the shuttle beside Chris. After he secured himself into the seat, the shuttle began to lift off, moving with a shrill whine. As they gained altitude, Harry looked out of the windows. Blue skies gave way to darkness spangled with innumerable stars. Harry caught his breath, staring out the windows at his future. It was beautiful. He would do anything just to stay out in the vast void of interstellar space. "Like it?" Chris asked.

"Yah," Harry murmured, awed by the sheer scope of the vista.

"Roger, my fiancé, is out there, somewhere. He's a scientist. He was going to Exo III before we lost contact with him. It's been five years."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He knew how it felt to lose someone you loved.

"Hopefully I'll find him. Anyways, I'm going into the med program. What about you?"

"I don't know yet. Possibly officer training… there's no reason for me to stay, after all. Everyone I knew is dead three hundred years. Time for a new start." Chris smiled at him, then settled into her seat, staring out of the porthole.

"Here's to fresh starts," Chris said softly.

"And luck," Harry put in with a smile.

**

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**

_**Balrog: Sappy. I don't like it much.**_

**_Celebwen Telcontar: Sappy? How is it sappy?! And I don't think you like _anything _I write, Balrog._**

_**Balrog: You're right there. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here's the new chapter of **_**Not Again!**_**! **_

_**Balrog: I'm not going to be at all surprised if it is horrid.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: That was rude! Please review, people!**_

_**Balrog: Why? It's all just a bunch of—**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog!**_

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**Harry Potter and James Kirk's Dorm Room**

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, California**

**0210 Hours, January 7, 2259**

* * *

Harry shoved his head under the pillow as his roommate came in. The clock on the wall said it was just after two in the morning, a ridiculous time for Kirk to come back after one of his trysts. He should have just stayed with the girl. As Kirk began to disrobe to climb into bed, Harry opened his eyes, abandoning the attempt to sleep.

"Do you have any idea how late it is?" Harry asked.

"Oh, somewhere around one."

"Two ten, Jim. Who was it this time?"

"Eeeshah. That Trilexian girl in our Quantum Physics class."

"Really. I didn't know that human anatomy was that flexible."

"It is. And she is _so_ worth it!"

"I see. Well, goodnight." Harry snuggled back under the covers, getting comfortable. Kirk slid a finger along the light panel, cutting the luminescence as he got into bed.

"I have a really great feeling about tomorrow," Kirk said. Harry heard a grin in his voice, and only grunted in response.

_**

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**_

Kobiashi Maru

**Simulation**

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, California**

**1545 Hours, January 7, 2259**

* * *

Harry stared at the beeping and flashing console in front of him, pushing buttons and pulling levers as fast as he could. With a groan, the lights went out, and the bridge of the starship shuddered, sending an engineer to her knees and collapse with an undignified flop. He only worked faster after that, punching buttons he hoped would get them out of this mess.

"Sir!" he called to his commanding officer. "We've lost fore and aft shielding! Prepare for impact!" The impact jolted the bridge severely, causing Harry to careen out of his seat with a yelp. He scrambled back to his seat, forcing the pain of a wounded arm out of the way.

"Open a communications channel," the captain snapped to the communications officer, glaring at the screen.

"Open, sir," the officer said.

"This is Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Starship _Agamemnon_. I order you to stand down _now_!" The screen flickered, and a Klingon's visage appeared. The Klingon gave a rather indelicate remark, sounding like a high-pitched yelp, in his home tongue and the offending ships quickly moved out of the way, the _Agamemnon_'s crew hearing babble about how fearsome Kirk was. The civilian ship _Kobiashi Maru _was rescued, and the two ships quickly headed back to the edge of the Neutral Zone. The lights came on, and the pressure door opened, letting the cadets return to their normal studies. Harry glared at Cadet Kirk. He _had _to have cheated somehow. There was no way that _that _particular scenario was acceptable.

During the three years he had studied at Starfleet Academy, he had become quite well versed with the computers and equipment, and had even come up with his own matter-antimatter converter once using magic. The converter worked for a whole hour before it exploded in a spectacular shower of sparks and radiation, leveling a good portion of the workshops and leaving the students to make their ways to the anti-radiation bays for scrub downs. The workshops still weren't back to working capacity again, which left Harry chagrined. Harry made his way to the computers, and found the _Kobiashi Maru _test. The test had been tampered with, and only one person could have done it. Cadet James Kirk. Harry narrowed his eyes. Kirk was a brilliant person, but he just didn't know when to quit and when to display some of his humility. Did the kid even _have _humility? Worse, was that the kid was his roommate.

"Report, Cadet Potter," Admiral Stone snapped out. Harry snapped to attention, giving a regulation-perfect salute as he did so. "Sir, yes sir! The _Kobiashi Maru_ test has been changed, altering the reactions of the Klingons when mentioned with a specific name."

"Lemme guess. Kirk, right?" Stone chuckled. "Helluva kid, but he needs to learn discipline."

"Yes, Sir," Harry agreed. Kirk reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy to a point, only kinder and with a devil-may-care attitude. The kid was going to get himself in trouble one day.

"At ease, Cadet. I have a daughter whose friend is currently undergoing schooling in Greenland. I have heard of your reputation as the person who can negate the terrorist attacking the P.A.H.M.A., or the Potter Academy of Higher Magical Arts." Harry ran a hand through his hair; he hadn't been bothered by Voldemort since he came to Starfleet; perhaps it was because his nemesis was trapped on a radioactive island, but Harry was grateful. Not that he was going to go and help the Greenlanders, because he had had _enough _of the War with Voldemort. Not that he wasn't optimistic about the new war; for one thing, his scar hadn't given him any pain at all since he awoke from the dead, and that was a sign that Voldemort wasn't up to anything. _I'm not your hero,_ Harry thought to the residents of Greenland and the other wizards around there. _Not anymore. You want to save the world? Fine. Do it. Just don't drag me into your mess._

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Harry asked.

"Granted."

"Frankly, Sir, I am just a person. I'm not a savior, nor some Messiah to free all wizards and witches from oppression. Yes, I did kill Voldemort once, due to some insane prophecy, but in so doing, I also got myself killed. I don't know why I was resurrected along with Voldemort, but he's not my problem anymore. The prophecy was fulfilled the first time I killed him. They resurrected him, so they deal with him. If I come along every bloody time Voldemort does, and kill him, they'll be looking to me for every little thing, and probably consider me Christ returned. Personally, all I want is to be dead again. Everyone I knew, everyone I loved, is dead. Not just dead, completely dust. Not even graves remain. I was at _peace_ until those damned kids resurrected Voldemort and me."

"I see," Admiral Stone said, looking at Harry. "Is there any way this person… Why'd he take the name of a stuffed pastry, anyway?... can be killed?"

"Yes, Sir. And you're thinking of a Vol-au-vent, not Voldemort. I would suggest any number of people using modern artillery. He has not had time to make any Horcruxes, which are soul-containers, to keep him from being killed."

"Thank you for the insight, Cadet. If you are willing, we will have you aid the council to take this terrorist down. You are to report to the councilor's tomorrow morning at 1000 hours. Dismissed."

"Yes, Sir, I am willing to help. Thank you, sir!" Harry snapped off another salute as the Admiral walked off.

**

* * *

**

Hallway

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, California**

**1700 Hours, January 7, 2259**

* * *

"Is _that _why you were trying to get into Eeeshah's pants last night? To get a code to feed to the test?"

"Yep," Kirk said, full of righteous pride.

"You really are something, aren't you, Jim. That's cheating if you forgot. And an expulsion-worthy offence."

"Relax, Harry. It'll be fine."

"I think that test is there to show us we need to face death. To see it, to not be able to run from it."

"And you have?" Kirk asked, both eyebrows up.

"Yes. Unfortunately." Harry's voice was flat, giving no information.

"When?" Kirk badgered Harry. "Where?"

"Drop it, Jim." Harry's voice held a promise of pain for anyone who pushed him. Kirk listened and stopped badgering him.

"Hey, good lookin'," a female voice said. Harry snapped out of his brood, looking up into the dark, dancing eyes of Gaila, an Orion cadet whom Kirk had long since moved past.

"What do you want, Gaila?" Harry asked.

"Jim and I were going to go down to the cafeteria to get something to eat. You wanna come?"

"Sure." Harry turned around and headed back to the community rooms with the two others. It looked like Kirk was going after Gaila again, since Kirk's arm was about Gaila's shoulders and his hand was creeping downward. It didn't matter to Harry who his roommate chased, even if it was half the female population of Starfleet.

**

* * *

**

Counseling Office

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, California**

**1000 Hours, January 8, 2259**

* * *

"So, what's going on?" the Betazoid councilor asked Harry, sitting across from him. "You have a lot of pent up grief and anger."

"I… My history is rather… complicated."

"Don't worry, I've seen some odd things myself," the woman said with a mild chuckle.

"What is spoken in here remains in here, correct?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Good. You see… I was born in 1975. My parents were a witch and a wizard, and a magical megalomaniac was after them. He killed them, and then tried to kill me. Because my mother had given her life for me, I was able to rebound the lethal curse back to him, leaving me with only this scar." Harry raised his bangs, revealing the famous scar. As he told the councilor about his life, he felt a weight lift from him, and the woman's face grew paler as she heard everything.

"So he's still out there?"

"Yes, and I am finished fighting the Wizarding World's battles. It seems that even after I _die_ they can't let me be! Why did they do that?! I'm not some all-powerful hero here to save the day yet again!" Harry snarled towards the ceiling.

"I'm sorry," the councilor said softly. Harry felt some of his grief and rage dim, and, though he still felt it, it wasn't nearly as raw as it had been before. Harry smiled at the Betazoid woman, realizing that she had dimmed the pain.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Harry. I would suggest that you continue to come here weekly for a two hour session. I'll set you a weekly reminder. I know how hard it is to keep your schedule as a Starfleet Cadet." She sent a reminder to his data pad, smiling at him.

**

* * *

**

Conference Room

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, California**

**1300 Hours, January 10, 2259**

* * *

"So," Daniel Nelson, Starfleet's Commander-in-Chief, said, looking at the people surrounding the table. He took a sip of his coffee, swirling it around in his cup. "We have a situation, people." The Starfleet Commander-in-Chief sat at the head of the conference table, and Cadet Potter sat at his left while Admiral Stone sat at his right. "Turn to page three of your booklets." The group did so, and the page had an overview of the Magical world. "These people need our help. A fascist dictator has been resurrected." The group turned the page; reading about Voldemort's first and second reigns.

"Sir," Admiral Jacobs asked, "Is Cadet Potter this same 'Chosen One' the population chose to take this dictator down?"

"That is correct, Admiral, which is why he is in this conference."

"Then shouldn't he be able to remove the threat?"

"Not alone, Admiral Jacobs. We are Starfleet, not some backwards band of devil-worshipping heathens," Admiral Stephenson snapped. The other admiral backed down, and continued looking through the Wizarding history which was provided by the booklet. Harry's face heated up at the mention of devil-worship.

"Stephenson!" Nelson snapped.

"Yes, Sir! Sorry, Sir!" the Admiral snapped to attention and snapped off a regulation-perfect salute. The group quickly went back to their booklets and finished up the meeting. When the meeting was done, the Admirals had decided to take a contingent of fighters to Greenland to destroy Voldemort without taking out the school as well. Among them would be Harry and Admiral Stone, who both knew about the Wizarding World.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, what do you think?**_

_**Balrog: Starfleet making war on the Wizarding World? I suppose that it's not that bad. It could be better. A lot better. In point of fact, I don't see how it could be worse! It's a horrible work of fiction!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Blinks) You do know that you just majorly contradicted yourself, don't you? Please review, people!**_

_**CT**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, Balrog, I don't suck as a writer! One of my reviewers told me that I don't and shouldn't listen to you! So there!**_

_**Balrog: And now you're down to trading petty insults? What is with you? First your—**_

_**Mystery woman: Shut it, both of you! Just shut the hell up!**_

_**Balrog: Who are you?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I think she's the mystery woman in this chapter. Hi, mystery woman!**_

_**Balrog: (Looks strangely at Celebwen)**_

_**Mystery Woman: (Looks strangely at both Celebwen and Balrog before shaking her head dispairingly) Why are we here? This is a disclaimer, not a bad stage production. Neither Celebwen nor the Balrog own the characters described or… meddled with below. If you have any questions or comments regarding this piece of fiction, please leave your inquiry in a review. Thank you.**_

_**Balrog: (Looks strangely at Mystery Woman before looking at Celebwen)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Looks strangely at Mystery Woman before looking at Balrog)**_

__

**Celebwen Telcontar and Balrog: (Shrug simultaneously)**

* * *

**Marla McGivers and Carolyn Palamas' dorm room**

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, California**

**2225 Hours, March 6, 2259**

* * *

Harry Potter smiled at the red-haired girl beside him. They were working on a project for their history class, and since Harry needed to learn over three hundred years of history, they had chosen to do their project on one of the three hundred odd years he needed to catch up on, and his partner, Marla McGivers, was partial to the last years of Khan Noonien Singh's reign in the late 20th century. His partner was enthusiastic about the project, and was unable to sit still. Harry had found out that she was a witch whom had graduated from Salem Witches Institute in Pennsylvania and had a talent for Divination and painting, both magical and Muggle. She was drawn to the late 20th century, and especially to Khan Noonien Singh. She believed herself to be a future empress over the super humans, which confused Harry quite a bit. However, she was excellent at what she did, and their project was far better than it could be alone, so he ignored her eccentricities. Harry did his best to tune out a pair of fighters passing spells back and forth as well as insults, glaring at himself and Voldemort who were perpetually fighting to the death on the Hogwarts grounds, the painting be-spelled so only wizards and witches could see and hear the painting move and talk. The first time he walked into Marla's quarters and seen and heard the painting, he had nearly cursed it off of the wall. Eventually, he had become amused at the piece of artwork; he didn't think Voldemort had known such a wide variety of foul language. Also, some of the curses that were flying back and forth were very interesting. Harry conjuring and propelling a large amount of rusted cutlery? He would remember if he did that. Also, he would remember being attacked by a malformed… something. Perhaps it was supposed to be a very demented and oversized bug. Whatever it was supposed to be, it was intended to be daunting. It only looked hilarious from this angle. He never remembered turning Voldemort into a tree, either, however briefly. Interesting use of Transfiguration. He wished he had thought of that during the real battle.

"Harry," Marla said softly, yanking him from his contemplation of that blasted painting. "This woman… who is she?" Harry walked over from his computer, where he had been putting together their project. He was far better at writing than she was, and she was far better at research.

"Just a mo'…" He stared at the picture the computer showed them. It was a woman, sleeping in a cryogenic tube provided by the USS Botany Bay. She had pale skin marred by various third-and-second-degree burns, which had also consumed her hair, and a thick, ropy scar running from just under her chin to below her uniform.

_

* * *

_

_Flashback_

* * *

_Harry felt the curses flying around him as he tried to get to the Hall of Prophecies. _

"**We've got him! In an office off of**_**—" **_

"Silencio_!" Hermione cried, silencing McNair, who was screaming their location. The Ministry executioner grinned at her and swept his wand down in a violent slash, purple fire lashing Hermione on her chest from her throat to her navel. _

"Petrificus totalus_!" Harry cried furiously, binding McNair. Hopefully Hermione would be alright._

* * *

End Flashback

* * *

Harry shook off the memory. This couldn't be Hermione; she had died, three hundred odd years ago, probably of old age. He had probably seen her in Death, even though he had absolutely no memories of being dead. Whoever this woman was, covered with burns and almost unrecognizable, wasn't her, even though she had the same… no a similar scar. Harry shook his head.

"I don't know. Why did you ask me?" Harry asked. Marla shook her head.

"I don't know. I got a sort of premonition, like you two are linked or something." The red-haired woman shook her head and chuckled. "Sorry, Harry."

"Is there a name?"

"Nope. Absolutely nothing, aside from that she was probably born in the mid-1970's and was captured around London in a massive fire." Harry looked again at the woman and shook his head before putting down the eighty-five passengers of the sleeper ship "SS Botany Bay" in the report, listing the woman as "Unknown female, recovered in London, 1996".

The door slid open, revealing a blonde woman.

"Hi, Marla," the woman said, flopping onto one of the two beds.

"Carolyn," Marla replied.

"Hi, Potter. How're you doing and what are are you still doing here?" the woman asked, looking carefully at him.

"Fine," Harry replied. "What time is it?"

"2230 hours, or half past ten, civvie speak."

"2230?!" Harry yelped. He had lost track of the time; it was almost curfew! He saved the project to his disk, ejected it, waved to Carolyn and Marla and walked from the room. It wouldn't do to look like he was late for anything and so he walked with a great deal of decorum and poise.

"Potter?" a voice asked. He turned, finding a beautiful woman with silver-gold hair and a roundish face. She was the woman who had submitted him to forceful anti-radiation treatment when he first arrived.

"Hello," he called. "I never did get your name."

"You can call me Chris." She smiled at him, then turned. "Meet me at the mess hall, 1145 hours, tomorrow?"

"Certainly," he replied. He remembered that she had joined Starfleet to look for her lost fiancée. "I'll see you at lunch." The two of them went their separate ways, Harry looking back over his shoulder at the woman. If she wasn't engaged, he might pursue a relationship with her. She was a good friend, for all the little time he knew her. He also liked Carolyn; she was a good friend and someone he could talk to. Like Marla, Carolyn was helping him to adjust to this time, and they were in the same Humanities and Extra-Terrestrial History classes together. Unlike Marla, Carolyn was a Muggle, but when Marla had "read her future", Harry was there, and Marla had said that Carolyn, like Marla, would "change the universe" just by being herself.

* * *

**Mess Hall**

**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, California**

**1200 Hours, March 7, 2259**

* * *

"So," Harry began as he dug into the meal that looked like it was supposed to be Salisbury steak. He still hadn't gotten used to the food replicators using pond scum and algae to recreate anything edible.

Christine looked up from her own meal. She was devouring it like she was used to replicated food and not at all grossed out by it. "Dr. Nand, my diagnosis instructor, is an Orion who was adopted by Humans then raised in Iraq. She's honing my ability to diagnose and treat problems with as little time wasted as possible. I'm a natural at it, as is Dr. Nand."

"Amazing. I'm glad you're doing well. I want to thank you for stopping me from contaminating the entire shuttle when I first joined."

"No problem," Christine laughed. "Did you have any issues after?"

"Some nausea, and some skin discoloration and flaking."

"Hey, you two," Carolyn said, leaning over Marla. "You can stop talking medspeak. We are eating, you know."

"I can't eat pond scum," Harry retorted.

"Back to that, is it?" Marla jibed, slowly eating a piece of her meal, winking at Harry.

"Stop being a tease," a female cadet said. She sat down opposite Harry. "Hi, I'm Jan. Janice Rand."

"Nice to meet you, Janice."

"I hear that you're the time-traveling cadet."

"That's me, Harry Potter, time-traveler extraordinaire," Harry said. Danielle Secura, a friend of Carolyn's, had placed that moniker on him. Shortly after, he realized that whatever happened, he would still be a hyphenated super-powerful person. Just as long as he didn't have to demolish some crazy fascist regime, that was fine. He quickly changed the subject. "Say, Christine, have you had any luck with finding your fiancée?"

"No. Roger seems to have completely fallen off the map. I've been hoping to get a position on a Constitution class explorer ship to help me look for him. What about you? Where do you want to end up?"

"I don't care, as long as I don't have to remain on the planet for too much longer."

"I know what you mean," Janice said with a sigh. "I've had too much time here." The young woman looked very young indeed then, possibly still in her late teens. Harry didn't ask her age; he wasn't a tactless moron like Ron sometimes was. Thinking of Ron made Harry blink his eyes repeatedly, staving off tears. It felt like he and Ron had just parted less than a year ago, when in fact it had been around three centuries. Besides, thinking of Ron made him think of Hermione, and his grasp on his hope was just too tenuous to be let down. He made an effort to stop thinking about the mystery woman who had been in the USS Botany Bay. Besides, the Botany Bay would probably have been demolished by now from some stray asteroid, a hostile new or known alien race, or sucked into the gravitational pull of a planet or star. The likelihood of the woman still being alive was ridiculously low. Harry put it out of his mind yet again, promising himself not to think of her, and focused on Janice's small talk, intent on enjoying his algae-manufactured meal.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, that wasn't so bad, now was it?**_

_**Balrog: Dr. Nand? Nand standing in for Neanderthal, perchance? An Orion diagnostician raised in Iraq by Humans? I think you've been reading a bit too much Auel. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Sorry! Well, how did you like it?**_

_**Mystery Woman: It's good. Keep working.**_

_**Balrog: Hey! My job is criticism! I'm the peanut gallery, like those old men in that puppet's show!**_

_**Mystery Woman: The Muppet Show?**_

_**Balrog: Yah! That's it! Now leave me alone to do my job!**_

_**Mystery Woman: Fine. (Leaves behind curtain)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: (Looks oddly at both the curtain and Balrog before shrugging) I hope you all enjoyed this!**_

_**CT**_


End file.
